I Have Won My Freedom
by Fran-XII
Summary: Fran is a secretive character, and her past in particular appears shrouded in mystery. Fran has won her freedom and taken leave of the wood. This is her story, pre-game, pre-Balthier. Rated M for adult material.


Disclaimer: I own no part of the Final Fantasy Franchise, which is under the proud ownership of Square Enix. All OCs, however, belong to me.

Author's Note: This was just a little thing I started to pass the time in between exams. It's basically about Fran's life just after she leaves the forest. It is before Balthier and all the rest. I can warn you however, there will be some more "mature" content if you catch my drift, including darling Fran's first. I feel pathetic begging for reviews, but I'd love some. if i get more than five from different people, then I shall continue. Sorry if the first chapter is a little boring :( Also, apologies for the stilted dialogue. I may improve that later.

A fell wind blew through the secret glades and sun-starved paths of Golmore Jungle, laden with promises of the unknown, reeking of adventure. To the Viera, it bore foreign malice, a serpent to tempt the Wood's daughters away, into the filthy hands of Humes. The Wood held her daughters close, kept them pure and unsullied within her protective branches, that cupped around them, like petals around a flower. The wind blew fiercely at the petals, rending them, breaking them, tearing sacred bonds and secrets in two.

A light, fresh wind blew through Eruyt Village, combing through Fran's platinum locks as she sat by her sister's side. The wind made her heart long for freedom as it kissed her chocolate skin, pulling at her hair, enticing, tempting. In Eruyt Village, a place of such serenity and stillness, permanent indolence, the wind rarely blows, but more and more often the wind was blowing through the village, the calls of the Hume world reaching the ears of the Viera, and taking them away from the Wood. Fran herself planned on leaving the village that very night, hopefully unnoticed. She could not bear Jote ridiculing her and condemning her, or Mjrn's pleading. As of late, however, there had been some... disturbance amongst the Viera out with the protective shell of Golmore. The Wood could feel the pain of her children. Several had fallen. What was killing them was a mystery, and the Wood could do nothing but draw her remaining daughters in tighter. Fran felt the wood trying to hold her close, and she began to, for once in her life, doubt her decision. Moments later, she furiously dismissed these doubts as cowardice, a child clinging to her mother's skirts. Fran had not ventured out of Golmore in her life. She was one of the youngest of the apprentice wood-warders in the village. She was still a young Viera, verging on the edge of adulthood, not quite grown into her new form. Her height was of that of any Viera in her prime, but her legs were still too long in comparison to her body, like a Mesmenir foal that wobbled about on weak matchsticks. She had not yet "filled out" her form, but was no longer the straight up-and down of the childish Mjrn, or the curvaceous beauty of Jote. She was trapped in between, too skinny to be truly beautiful, her bones etched in fine, like a half finished drawing, but to grown up to be pretty in the childish sort of way. Her growth, as of late, had definitley sped up. Jote had noticed, and was keeping a careful eye on her. It was during adolescence that Viera were most impressionable and keenly attuned to the world outside of the Wood. The Wood's voice was ubiquitous, however, still screaming out at her lost daughters, even though they could no longer hear her. Fran's ears were especially delicate, and she had even found that she could hear things even Jote could not, although the older Viera would never admit to it. At that moment, she reached up and stroked her long ears reverently. It was something she did often; a comforting reflex, though she was always careful no-one would see this slip in her armored demeanor. She fondled her ears, seemingly pleased with them, smiling contently as she smoothed the velveted surface. Glancing about furtively, to ensure no one had seen her, she halted, brushed her hair out of her face and stood up. Should night fall dark, she would leave. If it was a light night, she'd stay until a more suitable time, she decided, barely noticing the curious look directed at her by her fellow Viera, who were wondering why on earth she was in tears.

Night shrouded Golmore in its liquid blackness early. The more vicious inhabitants of the jungle stirred, the darkness signalling to them it was time to begin their nocturnal activities. Fran stood on the Road of Verdant Praise, between village and wood, heart torn in two, tears glinting in the moonlight. Viera were not inclined to show emotion, and Fran was one of the most stoic, placid Viera in the village, but twice that day she had made allowances for her emotion. She was still, after all, despite her maturity, a child. A precocious one, but still a child. She made to turn and walk away from the village forever, when she heard the terrible shriek of a coeurl being slaughtered by a Hellhound. She shuddered. Hellhounds were the only thing in the jungle that frightened her, being far more powerful than she was. She decided she should turn back and try to slip into her sister's quarters. Her sister had two useful items in her possession. One was a bestiary, handwritten, with details of every creature in Ivalice. Even Espers had been profiled and listed. The second was book on magic. Fran's magic was already spectacular; she could use the most powerful of spells with ease, but was yet to understand Quickenings, or Mist Attacks. A Quickening is a particularly powerful attack triggered when one is exposed to a lost of mist. It is especially useful. Because it is so powerful, each person is allocated only three, that is if they manage to grasp them at all. They are difficult to summon and even more difficult to master. Fran decided this was the best option and silently made her way to Jote's quarters, slipping in noiselessly, and after she obtained her treasure, she whispered a farewell to her sister's sleeping form before leaving the room and returning back to the Road of Verdant Praise. She made use of the bestiary immediately. She found the page titled "Hellhound", accompanied with drawings of grotesque-looking wolves surrounded by blue phosphorescence. She quickly scanned the description.

_"Being a hunter of the highest order, with a body of jet black and an aura of eldritch ensorcelment, it would chase its quarry to the very gates of the underworld. Originally a type of Hyena, a steady diet of malign, magicked creatures transmogrified it into what it is today. The sharp horn on its nose and long fangs jutting from its upper jaw are like to arrested magma. When they die, their color fades, becoming naught but dull, black stone."_

She grimaced. The description had done nothing to allay her fears. She tucked the book away and ensured she had enough magic power to be able to cast spells. She sighed lustily, and turned to look back at Eruyt for what she had thought would be the last time, when she noticed a white haired figure running down the path towards followed by another white haired figure. Jote and Mjrn. As soon as she reached Fran, Mjrn leaped into her legs, bowling her over.

"You can't leave!"she wailed, burying her face into Fran's chest. She winced. That armour had to hurt, but Mjrn took no noticed, merely continued wailing. Fran sat on the ground awkwardly, clutching the bawling child. Jote swept onto the path, eyes blazing anger.

"What do you think you are doing? You cannot leave!"she growled, echoing Mjrn's pleas.

"I am free. I may go as I wish. All I desire is liberty. I want to go beyond these forest boundaries and I want to see the world outside. Ivalice."replied Fran coolly, pushing Mjrn off her lap and standing up. She was the same height as Jote, if not sightly taller. Mjrn clutched her waist, looking up into Fran's crimson eyes.

"It is not the way of the Viera to leave the wood. If you do, you are Viera no longer!"shot back Jote angrily.

"The Viera may begin as part of the Wood, but it is not the only end that we may choose."answered Fran, before shaking Mjrn off and leaving the village and a trail of emotional wreckage behind her.


End file.
